Weakness Within
by Expression-Through-Ink
Summary: Sometimes, willpower is simply not enough. Especially when a mere human is subjected to the power of a dark goddess. She had always had a weak heart, and was already particularly vulnerable. She didn't have a chance...


Each reluctant step down the dreary corridors was accompanied by a blow to her pride. Her hands were bound with a force that she could not understand, and she felt utterly vulnerable. She had no weapon. Obviously it was taken as soon as she was captured, over a month ago, but she still felt like she had lost a precious ally or even a limb. It was still fresh pain. Her weapon was a part of her that defined who she had become. It had sculpted the courage that she had used to become part of a mercenary.

Her captors yanked her mercilessly with the chain, but she dug her heels into the stony floor anyway. She did not know where they were taking her, but it was worth the pain if it halted the enemy's plans for even a moment. Funnily enough, she had one nagging regret as she walked towards what must have been her demise. She would miss Magnus. She would miss her rival, ally, enemy, partner and… friend, she supposed. She wondered whether he would miss her too. She could almost imagine him bursting through the doors at any moment, ready to save her. It would be worth the humiliation to see him once more.

But he did not come. Why would he come? She was his rival. Without her, he could get twice as much money from his missions. She shook her head, to disperse the unreasonable thoughts. She was certain that he would come if he knew where she was. After all, had roles been reversed, she would hardly hesitate before deciding to help him. She had done it before, and she would do it again. Had she not accepted the most dangerous mission possible on his behalf? It had been an impossible task, but she had learnt that too late.

She stumbled slightly, as her ankle gave out underneath her. The monsters leading her clearly had no intention of pausing, even if their captive was being dragged along the ground, so she righted herself quickly. Her legs felt achy and feeble, but she was grateful to be alive. She often speculated reasons for why she - of all prisoners - was fed occasionally. She thought that she was going to rot away in the dark cell, but she had not.

She still did not know why she was being led away. Surely the masses of scuttlers could take her down with ease, in her defenceless state? The sense of dread that was thickening in the air gave her the impression that she was not being led away, or to a new cell. She got the sensation that she was being dragged to the belly of the beast.

She wanted to mock herself inwardly. Why would she - a human - be dealt with by the Goddess of Darkness herself? But the increasingly grand surroundings of the dark palace showed that she was getting closer to Medusa. The horrible, cold atmosphere made her shiver. She was not afraid though. She could not stand the idea of returning to her dingy cell to wither away. She wanted it all to end.

She nearly walked straight into the scuttler ahead of her when it stopped abruptly. She steeled herself to prevent herself from dropping to her knees. She was just so unbalanced and tired. The doors ahead of her entourage towered over her, and she noted the intricate carvings that had been etched into the obsidian. They depicted punishments and vile creatures.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a grey, misty room with an empty throne in the centre. The walls seemed so far away - as if the mist was pushing them away. When the prisoner inspected the 'mist' closer, she recoiled. It was black, and clung to her bare feet. It moved with hostility - it slithered over the ground like a snake - and it seemed to sap her remaining energy. She resisted stepping into the room, but she was pushed in, and then down onto her knees.

The dark substance suddenly drifted higher into the air, and over the black throne. The young woman squinted, as out of the mist, a figure seemed to form.  
"Medusa!" she gasped, her voice betraying her sudden fear, which she knew came from being so close to the Goddess of Darkness. The deity could spike fear into a small human with ease.  
The Goddess was reclining in her chair comfortably, but she still radiated superiority.  
"How nice to finally meet you." Medusa greeted the human idly. The snakes laced into her hair hissed with unconcealed distaste.

Medusa stood. "It's funny how my plans have been halted so many times by you and your little friend, when it would have taken an instant to wipe you both away, don't you think?"  
The prisoner scowled and turned away, not sure whether she should speak.  
"I hardly cared, of course." Medusa continued. "You humans only live for a few decades. I am eternal."  
The goddess's quarry glared upwards. The black substance of the air was crawling over the skin of her arms, like icy hands. The goddess was not hindered at all though.

"You think that humans pose no threat to your evil plans?" the captive figured that if she was going to die, there was little point in being submissive. "Individually, we are short-lived, but as a race we are old."  
To her dismay, Medusa chuckled patronisingly. "You have a sharp tongue, and a dull mind. Your fate is in my hands, so I advise you to behave."  
The fallen warrior seethed with anger, but arguing with the Goddess of Darkness would accomplish nothing.

"I admire your determination." Medusa said, catching the human's surprised expression. "You are only a human, but you still charge into battle to protect your pathetic race. I value your… impossibility. No other human could face an army of my monsters and win. "  
Medusa was wrong abou that. Magnus could too. They fought together to win. There was a short moment before the prisoner spoke a second time.  
"What do you want from me?" the girl asked through gritted teeth. "I want you in my army."

The warrior screamed as black pieces of metal hurtled towards her from all four corners of the room. She rolled and almost avoided the chunks of steel, but they altered their course towards her. The armour seemed to twist to suit her shape precisely, and tears started streaming down her cheeks as she felt the armour melting into her. Her mind seemed to be drifting away, but she wrenched it back. She would not become a slave to the darkness. The enemy that she had devoted her life to destroying.

"You are Dark Lord Gaol." Medusa told her with certainty. No, no, no, she was not! She was not. She was… not.

"You take orders from me."


End file.
